Twisted
by AlixEdwards
Summary: Once Upon a Time seems far to fanciful a way to begin my tale, and although one could certainly consider it a fairy story, the fairies of my acquaintance aren't those who admire any sort of frivolity. A Beauty and the Beast story. When a fairy seeking vengeance for a laird's arrogance curses his entire castle, one servant will do anything to regain her freedom- but at what cost?
1. Prologue

Prologue

Once Upon a Time seems far to fanciful a way to begin my tale, and although one could certainly consider it a fairy story, the fairies of my acquaintance aren't those who admire any sort of frivolity.

I was raised with a healthy respect for the people dwelling under the hills. The _daoine sith_, or fairies as they are more often called, are as temperate as they are beautiful, and once incurred, their wrath knows no limit, their punishments no bounds. The elders in my village used to gossip that my father was the victim of such a fate- for the way the once handsome and respectable clerk fell from grace was nothing but unnatural. After all, my mother grew ill so suddenly during her pregnancy that it was clear to everyone but the most stringent non-believers that a spell had been put upon her.

And so I shall simply start my tale at the very beginning, for without understanding how my life began, how I managed to change it will mean very little.

My labour into the world was not an easy one, and it took my mother's life at the very same moment she'd brought me into it. However, the evidence that most assuredly spoke of my father's disfavor with the fairies was not her death, as one might have supposed, but me. The minute the midwife looked at my twisted foot she set about placing loops of rowan round my cradle, and iron horseshoes were tacked to all of the windows and doors to try and prevent any more foul magic from entering my father's house. Whatever love my father might have felt for me was quickly replaced by hatred- anger that I had killed his beloved wife, and frustration that I would not be a worthy heir for his name, crippled as I was.

He made it clear to me as I was growing up, that I was nothing but a burden. The only compassion to be found was in the loaves of bread and casks of mead left by villagers, though I suspect it was because they were wary enough of my house's curse that they tried to appease it through meager offerings.

Yet, I was grateful for the small blessings, since my father had long since buried himself in debt and desperation, and we were lucky to have food in our stomachs. Still, I always managed to leave a little something for the fairies with the vain hope that perhaps, if they saw my willingness to amend for whatever error my father had made, they might release me from the pain I felt in my foot and the ache I felt in my heart.

But destiny has a strange way of charging in when you least expect it, and the day the laird's men knocked on our door was the day my life was altered forever. At near eleven years old I had grown up far too fast, and understood we had nothing to give in tribute and taxes to the laird. My father rarely took on clients, and the more he drank the fewer asked for him to settle their accounts.

Nevertheless, I cracked open the wooden door, the sound of the hinges creaking seemed to sound out my doom, while the laird's taxman regarded my appearance with what I'd learned to recognize as pity.

I knew what he saw when he looked at me, for it was the same as everyone else. A skinny, red-headed waif- unwashed, malnourished and with a clubfoot that caused me to walk awkwardly despite the fact I leaned on an old walking stick for assistance.

"Good morrow, lass," the man said with a kindlier expression than any I'd ever before seen, and I couldn't help but regard him with suspicion. He was enormous in stature, and his brown eyes were soft and gentle. "I'm looking for your da. Is he at home?" he continued, very politely. I wasn't used to being spoken to so nicely, and so I couldn't help but flush a little at his attention. Standing as straight as I could, I tried to give the most accomplished answer I knew.

"He is, sir, but he's indisposed at the minute," I answered, filling my voice with a confidence I didn't feel.

"That's a mighty big word for one as little as you are," the big man said with a grin. I didn't say I'd only learned it because the others in the village used it to talk about my father often enough I'd managed to catch on.

"I learn fast, sir," I answered him, not exactly eager to let him in the house, since I knew my father would be livid if I did.

"I'm afraid I'll need to be coming in to speak with him," the man said, and I knew there was no refusing, so I opened the door wider to allow him to pass through. My gaze lingering on the floor, for I was embarrassed for a man as fine as he was to see the squalor I was used to living in. Nothing but a dirt floor with tattered blankets to sleep on and a fireplace so full of ashes there was barely room left for a flame. My father was laying close by, snoring away in yet another drunken stupor, and it was obvious he wasn't going to be roused any time soon.

"As you can well see, da's not up for talking. But I know you'll be wanting taxes for the laird, and I suppose it's up to me to tell you that we haven't the coin," I said, and the big man's jolly eyes widened.

"And how's a wee lass such as yourself so certain of that? We don't need to be taking just coin, you know," he said.

"We did keep geese, though da sold our last one a fortnight ago to pay a debt at the tavern. It was a big one too, worth at least 3 crowns. That was the one meant for your laird's table instead of mine, and now neither of us gets a taste." I said a little morosely. I had been looking forward to a decent meal.

"He's not just my laird, he's yours as well. You best be remembering that before flapping that glib tongue," the man laughed merrily, and although I was sure he didn't mean it, he made my hunger feel like a joke. As if to perpetuate my state, my stomach rumbled loudly enough that I was sure he could hear it.

"I've never met a laird, though I'm sure he sits in a castle far away, content in taking the last goose away from a starving family. But as you can see we've got nothing here to offer you, as much as I wish things were different," I explained as reasonably as I could, before making my way slowly over to the hearth where I might at least hide myself from the man's gaze for a time.

If I'd thought my words would dissuade the taxman, I was wrong, for a swift kick to my father's side was more successful at waking him than any strategy I'd tried before. I watched as he sputtered and spun awake; cursing like a mad dog his eyes were bloodshot and his fists went flailing, though the taxman had little trouble deflecting him.

"Taxes," the laird's man said simply, and the word was spoken severely enough that my da seemed to immediately sober, his usually handsome face turning a putrid shade of green.

"Was that today?" he stumbled.

"Aye, I'm collecting today. And your lass has informed me you've not a penny to give to your laird and protector."

"A few more days is all I'm asking, master," my father pleaded, throwing me a look that foretold some sort of punishment.

"And what proof have I that you will pay? The laird is not in the business of forgiving a debt owed."

"The laird is nothing but a bairn, barely old enough to be weaned off his mother's milk!" my da snapped back, and all at once I could tell it had been a poor decision. The big man seemed to grow even larger than he'd already seemed, and he reached out to snatch my father by his collar before holding him up against the wall in a clear demonstration of his superior strength.

"You'll be respecting the young master in my presence, fool," he said, his voice dangerously quiet, and despite the fact I wanted to appear strong in front of this stranger, I couldn't help but shrink at little at his tone.

"Put me in the stocks then, or in prison if you fancy!" my father spat, "But when my daughter goes hungry it will be no fault of mine!" He grinned, hoping that the tax man's compassion would let him get away without punishment- but whatever my father might have thought of the stranger's character, he was completely wrong. For whatever sympathies the man had for me, his loyalty to his master was far stronger.

"If circumstances were different, it would be off to a debtor's prison with you. But no more will your child suffer for your fool incompetence. To pay your debt sir, she will be indentured to his lordship's service, though I have a feeling she'll be far better off in his care than yours," he said, holding his and out for me to take- almost as if I had a choice in the matter.

While I'd be the first to admit my life was hardly perfect, it was the only life I'd ever known. I'd lived until now without the love of a father, but had been content with my lot in life. Still, part of me wished that my da would fight for me, or at least offer the slightest murmur of protest.

Yet despite all of my hopes, all my father did was laugh.

"I don't know what use you'd have for a cripple, but she won't be good for much hard work. I'm sure you'll be back in a fortnight complaining you never got your coin's worth."

In an instant, my father was on the floor, the big man looming over him with eyes as dark as the clouds were on a stormy day.

"Aye then, I'll be back in a fortnight to be collecting the rest. You'd best hope you have it, and that your child might find it in her heart to forgive a fool like you," he said, spitting on the dirt floor of our home in disgust.

The tax man's ultimatum didn't sit well with my father, and I could tell he was fuming with silent anger, as I'd seen it firsthand so many times. Yet. it was clear my self-proclaimed protector and jailer was hardly bothered as he began to gently lead me towards a cart being loaded up with the villagers' offerings, allowing me to set a pace comfortable enough to walk on my own.

"Where are we going?" I asked, sparing one last look at the only home I'd ever known. I knew I wouldn't miss it, I only wondered if my life would become better or worse.

"To Castle Droigheann, the Seat of Thorns, lass. A finer place you've never seen, of that I'm certain. But are you not angry with me, for forcing your hand?" he wondered as he lifted me up among all of the other goods he'd collected.

"I'd not have been welcomed much longer, sir," I replied, albeit a little sadly. "Still, while I'm not sure how much use I'll be, I promise I will try my best if only you won't throw me out, too."

The tax man held me firmly by the shoulders, making sure I looked at him squarely in his warm, brown eyes.

"You're not rubbish to be thrown away, lass, and there is always work to be done for a servant of Castle Droigheann, don't you worry. Besides, let it never be said that Douglas MacKenzie failed to protect a lass as lovely as yourself," he said, and I couldn't help but giggle at his words. I knew I wasn't lovely, though his kindness helped to ease my trepidation a little. I'd never been wanted before, and I desired to feel as if I belonged somewhere so badly that I was willing to at least give this Douglas and his mysterious laird a chance.

He held his big hand out to shake mine in a formal introduction, and I took it a little hesitantly.

"And who knows lass, perhaps your da will learn his lesson, and start missing you after all," he finished, although I knew how truly ridiculous that idea was. My father wouldn't miss me. He probably wouldn't be out of his drunken stupor long enough to notice I was gone.

"I doubt it, Master MacKenzie, but it means a lot you thought to say so."

"More fancy words from you. You're a clever little thing aren't you? What do they call you?" he asked with a great, big grin on his face.

"My name's Camryn Roy, sir, though they call me Cruikshank on account of my leg."

"Well I'll be calling you no such thing. It'll be nothing but Camryn at Castle Droigheann, lass, do you hear?"

"Yes, sir. I'll be a good servant to the laird, I promise," I said, and MacKenzie smiled warmly at my desire to feel useful for once in my life, before climbing into the wagon after me and setting us on our way to my new home.

If I knew what my fate had in store for me, I wonder if I still would have gone along with MacKenzie quietly. Perhaps I should have run as fast as my twisted leg could carry me, getting as far away from Castle Droigheann and it's terrible laird as I could- before it was too late. For how many times did I deserve to be cursed for someone else's folly?


	2. Prologue II

A/N: A special thanks to Mockingbyrd's Tune, for being far better with grammar and editing than I could ever be!

**Prologue II**

The first time I laid eyes on Castle Droigheann, I thought that it must be the most beautiful place on earth. The size of my whole village could have roughly fit within its fortifications; and although the size of the place was intimidating, the carefully cultivated grounds helped to blend the stark castle into the wild landscape around it. Vines wrapped themselves around the stone walls as if they were trying to reclaim the land for the wild, but perhaps what was most striking were the giant bushes of blood red flowers. From the hillside where we approached, I could see that they were arranged in a most peculiar fashion, creating pathways in between them- many which led to absolutely nowhere.

Douglas was riding a great, brown Clydesdale in behind the cart where I was sitting, and he must have noticed my interest.

"That's the rose maze, lass, the pride and joy of the late lady of the castle- may she rest in peace. Do you see that bit in the center, just there?" he asked, pointing towards what appeared to be carved stonework in the distance.

"Yes, what is it?" I wondered.

"That's a fountain. It draws up water from the spring beneath the ground and shoots it out into the air. It's near magic, lass. If I hadn't seen it built with my own eyes I might have thought the fair folk behind it," he explained.

I found myself eager to see this fountain for myself. Such things did not exist within the borders of my small village, and I suddenly wanted to experience everything that my new home had to offer all at once.

"This place is incredible. Am I really to live here?" I asked, completely astonished by the sheer magnificence of the castle. I'd never thought to see anything like it in my life, since, much as I'd wished to, leaving my father's home was never a realistic possibility, given the state of my foot. Instead, I would dream of places that were safe and far away, but even my imagination could never have conjured a place that was so wonderful.

"We'll find a place for you here, not to worry," Douglas said. "If you like the gardens so much, perhaps we'll work you there. Weeding requires more sitting than standing, and they can use some attention- even though the laird hardly uses them any longer."

"Really?" I said, a little shocked at Douglas' statement. "If I had such a garden, I'd never leave it!"

The big man laughed heartily, reaching into the cart and lifting me out of it as if I weighed nothing.

"Aye, lass, but you're still young, and our laird- well, he's got other pursuits on his mind of late," he replied, putting me down on the ground more gently than one would have thought possible for a person of his stature.

I was curious about this new laird and was about to ask what those new pursuits might be. However, before I had the chance, the stomping of heavy hooves on the road behind us distracted my travelling companion.

"If it isn't Douglas, returned from whatever cesspit was on the tax rotation for the day!" a voice called out from behind us. Douglas turned quickly, although without my walking stick it took me a good deal longer to face the owner of the voice than it did him. When I finally managed, I noticed that Douglas was bowing low. I could only assume that this boy was the laird. I regarded him thoughtfully, realizing that my father had been right, for while clearly older than I was, he wasn't yet old enough to grow a beard.

Still, he was unlike any boy I'd ever seen. Growing up in a small village, most children, myself included, were generally unkempt and covered in the grime of the day. The young laird, however, was nothing short of perfect, and to say I was a little in awe of him would have been a vast understatement.

Back home, I would sometimes make my way to the village hall to listen to the old ladies tell their fairy stories- of handsome princes and terrifying monsters. I would try to envision myself in them, for my life had certainly started out as miserable as any pathetic heroine's at the beginning of the tales-but I always fell short when imagining my hero. Perhaps it was because until this moment I hadn't anybody to compare him to. With deep, blue eyes, and dark, brown hair streaked with honey-coloured lines, I decided he must be the most handsome boy to have ever existed.

At least, he was until he opened his mouth.

"Does this thing belong in the stables with the rest of the pigs?" the laird asked, and I could feel a flush start at the tip of my toes before it worked its way to my cheeks.

"Nay, Laird Alasdair, she's to be a new servant here. Her father couldn't pay his due," Douglas explained, still bowing low.

"Why do I think I got the short end of the deal?" he replied with a laugh. It was only then that I realized that he was riding with others- another boy who looked a bit older, and a lady who was dressed in one of the finest gowns I'd ever seen, both laughing along with him.

"Because you did my lord. She's a cripple! I've had horses born with that same condition- clubfoot our horsemaster called it. He puts those useless foals out of their misery," said the other boy, most definitely another noble of some sort.

"My goodness, I was so focused on her disheveled appearance I didn't even notice the foot. Wherever shall you have her put to work, Alasdair? I can't imagine she'd be much use. My father would never stand for such a servant- she's not worth the food you'd be providing her," the lady added with a sneer.

None of these insults were new to me. I'd heard them all more times than I could count, although this time they were considerably more vicious. Still, I think it stung more that I'd been naive. I'd thought that based on Douglas' kind manner his laird would have the same generosity of spirit- because surely the nobility must be the best of all his people. If that was what I'd been hoping for in my new master I was most horribly let down.

I'm not sure what reaction they were expecting from me, but usually I was far better at letting such words slide over me as if they'd never been spoken. There was something about this Laird Alisdair and his goons that made me especially upset, though. Perhaps it was because, unlike most of the villagers I'd grown up with, they were not stating a fact, or showing me pity. Their words were carefully chosen to inflict pain.

So, trying to act more grown up than I felt, I took a deep breath to prepare myself for the words I ought have known better than to say.

"Say what you will about me, but I'll prove you wrong. You're nothing but a bully, and I came here expecting better from you. My father said you were nothing but a bairn, but he didn't mention anything about you being a spoiled, hateful lout," I said, more matter-of-factly than angrily. None of the three nobles said a thing for a moment; they were far too busy staring at me with open shock. Douglas didn't look too impressed either, though at whose behaviour, I wasn't sure.

"Are you mad, chit? I could have you whipped for that impudence!" Laird Alasdair finally said, but I stood my ground, refusing to relent to him. I knew that if I did, his abuse would never end. Though, to be honest it might not, regardless of my actions.

"You could, but then you'd only be proving me right," I answered, and despite his growl of disapproval, he knew that no matter what decision he made, he'd be at a loss. If he let me go, he'd have to concede defeat, but if he whipped me he'd become exactly what I accused him of being.

"Douglas, next time you bring me an indentured servant, pick someone who doesn't fancy herself a wit? As for this one, I'm sure she'll enjoy mucking out the stables for the rest of her miserable existence. I'll have to feed Barbary especially well to make sure she's kept busy." Alasdair sneered, the expression contorting his handsome face into a monstrous one. Without sparing another look at me, he rode off into the moors, his friends following in his wake.

"I'm not sure if that was wise, lass," Douglas admonished, albeit gently.

"Should I have let him be cruel, then?" I asked.

"Aye, you should have. He could do you harm if he wished."

"Then I'm in no worse position than I was with my father. I'm not afraid _of_ your laird, Douglas Mackenzie, but I am afraid _for_ him. If he's meant to lead his people, he ought to show some compassion to those who are beneath him, or it's not me he'll need to be worried about."

"Again with wisdom beyond your years, wee one. How did you come by such a heart?"

"Just because I can't walk doesn't mean I can't listen, and I've heard stories about people like your laird. Folks who act too big for their britches are soon to learn that there is always someone bigger and more powerful than they are. Besides, I watched my da fall from grace for thinking he was better than everyone else just because he had a pretty face. But you saw him today, and what became of him- a drunken fool with a cripple for a daughter. So I tell myself that even though I'm not pretty, or rich or particularly good at anything, if I keep doing what's right, then just maybe life will get a little better. I'll make my own story have a happy ending. Whether I'm at home with my da or shoveling manure in Laird Alasdair's stables it's all the same."

Douglas placed his hands on my shoulders kindly.

"I hope you will, lass, and courage is a good thing to be having. But you'd best be careful on how you use it, for you can't make a happy ending if you're dead, now can you?"

I had to concede that Douglas had a point, and that I might have been a little hasty in criticizing the laird to his face-him being rude notwithstanding, and so I nodded in agreement before reaching into the cart and pulling out my walking stick.

"Now, we'll leave the cart to be unloaded, and I'll take you to the kitchens. You look like you could use a decent meal and something warm to drink," he said, putting the encounter with Alasdair out of our minds for the time being. My stomach rumbled eagerly in anticipation of a warm meal. It had been ages since I'd eaten anything of substance.

We walked through a cobbled courtyard until we reached a small door, where the most heavenly smell of baking bread wafted through the air and reached my nose. I breathed it in deeply and nearly sighed in pleasure at the thought that I might get the chance to taste it.

As soon as Douglas entered, a great clattering could be heard, and when I followed after him, I saw a red faced woman head towards him brandishing a rather intimidating wooden spoon.

"It's about time you got back, you old fool!" she said, and I braced myself for yet another angry encounter. Yet Douglas only laughed, smacking the lady on her bottom quite happily.

"Not old yet, Iona, but I feel it after today."

"I missed you, Douglas Mackenzie. I worry over you on the road with the laird's goods- what with all of the brigands about on the roads." The woman sighed. Her demeanor instantly improved as she wrapped her arms around Douglas in a fierce embrace. I watched the exchange with interest for a time, until one of Iona's sharp, brown eyes finally spied me from beneath Douglas' shoulder.

"And who've you brought me?" she wondered, though her tone was kind and non-accusing.

"Camryn Roy, meet my wife, Iona. Don't let her bite fool you, lass. She's harmless," Douglas said with a grin before whispering "mostly," in my ear. I couldn't help but giggle at Iona's expression of mock outrage as I shook her hand.

"Pleased to be meeting you, Mistress Iona," I said as politely as I could. If the woman was the cook, I'd want to be on her good side.

"My, but aren't you a wee thing?" Iona said, looking me over, and I couldn't help but notice when her gaze fell on my leg. I was surprised when she said nothing. Instead, she approached me and ran her fingers through my wild hair with a touch of affection. "But you've a fiery spirit, I can tell. Be welcome here, Camryn. You look as if you'll be needing a good meal in your belly. A good bath, too, I should think."

After barking out some orders to the rest of the kitchen staff, Iona sat with her husband and me at an old, oak table. It had been so long since I could last remember eating a real meal at a table I almost felt like crying, so instead I shoveled food into my mouth like it was going to be my last supper. While Douglas and I ate, he told Iona of his trip to my village, and, later, about our encounter with Laird Alasdair.

"Oh what I wouldn't have given to see that boy's face!" Iona exclaimed in delight.

"Hush now, Iona. Don't be giving the lass any more ideas," Douglas said.

"Nonsense! Alasdair needs a good paddling himself, and I've got just the spoon to do it. He was such a sweet boy once, but after his father passed on- rest his soul- he had too much power far too soon. The child's grown sick with it, and I don't mind saying so! Those so-called friends of his are a bunch of rotten apples too, if you ask me, and they're spreading their disease to our boy!" Iona exclaimed, and it was in that moment that I decided I liked her very much.

"Would you be quiet, woman? The last thing we need is to make him angry again."

"The boy's not here Douglas, he's out hunting them deer on the moors again. I've told him it's no good; the red deer are for the fairies after all, and they're not keen on sharing. Speaking of, I'd best leave some extra milk out for them tonight. Perhaps that will help appease them," she said.

"Enough with the superstition, Iona," Douglas warned, but I had to admit, my curiosity had been piqued.

"What do you mean, the red deer are for the fairies?" I asked. Pointedly ignoring Douglas' annoyed expression, Iona explained.

"It's an old legend, back from when Castle Droigheann was new. The first laird on the seat of thorns, Callum Lyall, was said to have made a pact with the Queen of Elphame, of the fair folk under the hill. Both beautiful and terrible she is, but she prizes the red deer above all other creatures. So, in order to build his castle on this land, he promised to protect them so long as his family resides here."

"Have they not been hunted before?" I wondered. Even I knew that a hart was the most prized trophy for hunters.

"One hasn't been seen in nearly a century, so I doubt it truly exists," Douglas scoffed.

"But if it does, our young lord best not be hunting it, lest he incur the Queen's wrath," Iona countered.

"It's just a story, woman. Don't scare the poor lass on her first day here. Come then, enough fairy stories for one day. We'll get a bath ready for you, and Iona will find some clothes that will better suit you. You'll sleep in the barn soundly by the fire. I'll send some boys for the warmest blankets we can find," Douglas said, tossing his wife a frustrated glance.

"You best be hanging rowan on the doors of the stables as well, Douglas, just in case it's not a story after all."


	3. Prologue III

**A/N: Thanks to those who reviewed, being so new to this I really appreciate the boost in confidence! Also a giant thanks to Mockingbyrd's Tune for bearing with my terrible grammar and doing such an amazing job as a beta! **

**Prologue III**

Sleeping in the barn was far more comfortable than Douglas had led me to believe. The warm bath, meal, and comfortable blankets I'd been given were completely foreign experiences, though not unwelcome. For the first time, I could sleep the whole night through without worrying about what state my father would be in when he returned. I was safe, at least for the moment.

True to his word, Alasdair upheld his threat early the next morning when he sent Douglas down to the stables with a simple pitchfork and a bucket. I'd never mucked a stable before, but it didn't take me long to figure out what the tools were meant to be used for.

"I'm sorry, lass. I'd hoped he'd forget about you, but his pride's too sore to let you be," Douglas said, looking a little sheepish.

"Then it's a good thing I'm too stubborn to let it bother me. It's obvious your laird doesn't know anything of true hardship, otherwise he'd realize that cleaning up dung isn't really all that difficult," I said, taking the tools he offered confidently.

"Would that we all had your optimism, lass. Still, 'tis always wise to keep in your laird's good graces."

"I'm sure you're right, but even though you and Iona seem to respect him, he hasn't inspired any such loyalty from me—aside from the fact that I've been indebted to him indefinitely." I grimaced. The prospect of living in a place as beautiful as Castle Droigheann was like a dream, but I worried that living under the hand of someone as callous as Laird Alasdair would be no better than living with my father.

"Sometimes, life places us on a strange path, lass. We might not always ken why we are where destiny has thrown us, but your purpose here will be revealed in time," Douglas said. He offered me a friendly pat on the back before ruffling my hair.

"You may not look it, but I think you must be very wise." I grinned at him, and he chuckled.

"Don't be spreading that around. If Iona found out, I'd have no more excuses for my occasional bouts of foolishness. Now off with you. Breakfast will be served for Laird Alasdair and his guests shortly, and we can eat as soon as they're finished. I'll come and fetch you."

I nodded, eager to try some more of Iona's luscious cooking. While I had no desire to muck out the stables, the thought of warm food in my belly was enough to inspire me to earn it. Using the pitchfork Douglas had given me as a crutch of sorts, I made my way over to the first stall. I recognized the big, black horse that Laird Alasdair had been riding the day before and tried my best not to be intimidated by its size.

"Good morning, you great brute," I greeted the beast, giving him a gentle pat on his neck. I didn't have much experience in the way of horses. I'd seen them before, of course, though I'd certainly never ridden one. Even during his most productive days, my father hadn't been able to afford one. Still, I'd always found them incredibly majestic creatures. I was a little nervous at the prospect of moving the beast out of the way since he was so much larger than I was. Tentatively, I placed my hand on his nose, earning a soft whinny in response.

"There now, you big beastie. You'll need to be gentle with me. Your Master has already given me enough grief, but at least he hasn't got feet big enough to crush me with," I said, gently.

Nudging me with his great head, I lost my balance a little before straightening myself out against the stall door.

"Be careful now, Barbary. I'm not as sure footed as you are." Taking the horse by the bridle, I led him out of his paddock and into the small, gated pasture just outside. Steam from his warm breath got carried away by the wind that had begun howling wickedly around us. It was a cold morning, and the clouds painted a dark and ominous picture against the mountains in the distance. A storm was coming, and while that was hardly an unusual occurrence, a strange feeling seemed to bubble up from deep inside me. I felt jittery all of a sudden, like my very soul could sense something earth-shattering was about to happen.

"Don't fash yourself, Camryn," I scolded, myself. "All of Iona's talk of fairies has got you acting like a babe again."

Heading back towards the barn, I made sure I closed the gate to the pasture behind me while I tried to shake off my feeling of unease.

Now that Barbary was out of his stall, I could see that Alasdair had been true to his word. His horse had eaten well, and it was left up to me to make sure he was cleaned up after.

I knew there was no getting around my new duties, and to be fair, cleaning up after my father could often be far worse than cleaning up after a horse. In terms of a punishment for my insolence, I could have fared far worse.

I grinned when I thought that perhaps I might have bested Laird Alasdair after all, since I didn't feel as miserable as he'd probably hoped I would. So, forgetting all about the strange feeling from earlier, I worked happily away, humming to myself all the while.

"You don't even know enough to act suitably repentant."

So engrossed was I in my task, I almost thought I'd imagined the laird's voice; but as he cleared his throat to elicit a response, I knew I wasn't going to be so lucky. With enough sense to suppress my sigh, I turned around to face him.

Alasdair looked even more resplendent than he had the day before—perhaps because he was well rested, washed, and fed. His appearance didn't startle me this time, however, and I was prepared to follow Douglas' advice to be more careful around him. At least a little.

"How would you like your apology for my behavior yesterday, my laird? Shall I get on a knee and beg your forgiveness, or would you prefer me to kiss your most honorable toes?" I asked, making sure I sounded perfectly contrite.

"Neither, but don't think I don't know when I'm being made a fool of. I'm beginning to suspect you're truly mad. You talk as if you're a wizened old crone, not a bairn of what? Six years?"

"I'm eight, Laird Alasdair. And age does not always mean wisdom. For example, you are older than I am, after all."

"Are you implying I'm not wise? Dangerous words again, girl."

"I was not implying anything my laird, merely stating a fact. Now I must get the rest of these stalls cleaned before breaking fast—unless there is anything I can do for your most esteemed presence."

"I can't say I approve of these new found manners of yours."

"Yet another thing you've found to dislike about me, I'm sure. Why are you here anyway? Aren't you meant to be breakfasting?"

"I wasn't aware you were in charge of my schedule now."

"I'm aware that I need to wait for you to eat before it's my turn. And I've been working long enough to feel hungry by now."

"I can't decide whether I'm impressed or annoyed by your boldness. Clearly, you must have been raised by pigs, although I imagine my swine have more sense than you. Still, perhaps you'd be more comfortable tending to them?"

I grimaced at his words, but didn't respond. I wouldn't let him spark my temper, lest I get myself in trouble again. Despite my rudeness he had yet to be as downright cruel as he had been the night before, and I wasn't eager to incur anymore of his ire today. After all, I didn't mind mucking up after the horses, but I wasn't overly keen on pigs.

Thankfully, Alasdair's companions arrived at the stables before I was expected to give him an answer, and he seemed distracted enough that I managed to slip away into the next stall before I was noticed.

"Alasdair!" the lady practically shrieked, and I wondered what could have her worked up so early in the morning.

"Rhys tells me you've been keeping secrets! Is it true your father's engaged you to Aileen Munroe?"

I could hear the laird sigh and could tell it wasn't a topic he was keen on discussing with her.

"It was arranged before he passed on. But she's too young yet to be worried about the match. A great deal could change before she's of an age to marry," he answered, almost automatically. It seemed to me as if he'd been practicing those very same words on himself.

"Such a pity a strapping laird like you is already affianced. I don't envy you, though. They say old Munroe has an iron will and a hunger for power," the young nobleman, Rhys, said with a laugh.

"And have you seen his daughter?" the lady interrupted. "She's very mousy, and I hear she's got a pox-ridden complexion."

"I haven't met her, no, and I've no intention of marrying her either. But let's skip the conversation about my impending imprisonment for the time being, shall we? Today is the day we bag ourselves a deer. And tonight, we feast!" Alasdair said, obviously directing the conversation away from himself.

"The weather is hardly suitable for hunting, Alasdair," the lady whined, completely disregarding her earlier train of thought. I nearly groaned, but recalled I didn't want to be the center of their attention again.

"Nonsense, Deirdre, it's not raining yet, and I've got a good feeling about today," Alasdair answered, brushing off her concern.

The unsettling feeling I had earlier returned at the thought of them leaving for a hunt again, and while I wasn't exactly eager to draw attention to myself, given present company, I somehow felt compelled to speak out.

"The horses are at pasture my lord, though I'd an inkling to bring them in soon. You might want to be listening to Lady Deirdre. It isn't likely to be fair weather for riding. Even if there were deer around, they'd surely seek shelter as well," I said, creeping out from my hiding place.

Lord Rhys looked over to the stall where I'd been hiding, and grinned.

"Well if it isn't your new cripple, Alasdair! You seem to have lost the nerve you showed us yesterday. Have you been broken in already?" he lamented, almost sounding disappointed.

"If even she has sense enough to stay inside, perhaps you should take heed, Alasdair." Lady Deirdre urged.

"You're just not keen on getting your dress dirty, my lady," Rhys laughed. "Come on then(,) Alasdair, let's leave her behind then."

"I didn't say I wouldn't come, only that I'd prefer not to. You, stable girl, fetch a horse for me from the pasture. I rather like the dappled mare. And I'll need her saddled and ready to ride when I come back from changing," she ordered. I stood and regarded her for a moment, unsure of how to tell her I'd never tacked a horse before, and had no idea how to do as she'd asked.

"Off you go, Deirdre. I'll saddle the beast for you. I'll do a better job than this lout," Alasdair said.

"Oh how sweet. Helping out the help. Perhaps you'd prefer this little beast to Lady Munroe?" Rhys said with a chuckle, though the glare he received in return was more than enough to silence him.

"Enough from you, Rhys. Girl, come with me and make yourself useful," the laird demanded, and despite the fact that I didn't enjoy being the brunt of the nobleman's jokes yet again, I kept my mouth shut. Even if I didn't want to believe it, Alasdair had helped me—at least indirectly.

Alasdair led Barbary back to the stables to be prepared, while I brought along the mare that Deirdre had asked for. Rhys, insisting he had men to do his tacking for him, left to prepare himself for the ride and gather the castle's deerhounds.

"If you can't even saddle a horse, what good will you be?" the laird muttered after giving me a firm chastising for brushing the beast the wrong way.

"If you recall, you're the one who put me in the stables. If you haven't got a proper stable hand, that's not my concern."

"I have got a proper stable hand. His wife's just had a difficult childbirth, and I've given him some leave. You weren't expecting that from a spoiled, hateful lout, now were you?"

It was true that his admission had surprised me, though I'd never tell him so.

"Should I be surprised that a laird showed compassion to one of his people?" I retorted. "In my experience it has been a rarity."

"Oh, and I imagine you are incredibly experienced in political matters," Alasdair snorted, throwing his saddle on Barbary's back before pushing me away from the mare. I was obviously tending to the creature incorrectly.

"Hardly, but no laird ever saw fit to feed the starving children in my village, or to send help when the crops were failing."

"It isn't my responsibility to be a father to all of the bairns on my land."

"No, but it is your responsibility to care for all of your people. Instead you concern yourself with killing an innocent creature that you oughtn't be meddling with to begin with!" I snapped then, annoyed with his casual disregard for the people suffering in his lands, myself included.

"Oh, I see what the problem is now. What nonsense has Iona been feeding you? Be more concerned about yourself and your place here than about a ridiculous fairy story that's hundreds of years old. I could cast you out, you know. I've no need of a beastly chit like you around—and then where would you go? It's clear that no one in your village wanted you, either."

Of all the hateful things Alasdair had said before, those final words were by far the most painful of them all. Probably because they were true. No one had fought for me, not even my own father, and there was nothing I could say to defend myself.

I was never one to be self-pitying, but I knew how to feel anger, and it boiled up from deep inside me. I dared not speak out against him, lest he make good on his threat to dismiss me. I knew I'd never survive such a punishment. Instead, I dropped the brush I'd been using on the mare into the hay before hobbling towards the kitchens. I was angry at Alasdair, his friends, and my father. But most of all, I was furious with myself for believing, even for the smallest of moments, that I might find a place where I would be welcome and happy—a place where I might matter.

I met Douglas on the way to the courtyard, and he began waving me over with a smile before catching a glimpse of what was probably a terrible expression on my face.

"I was just coming to fetch you for breakfast, lass. What's happened?"

"Nothing," I answered sharply, unwilling to speak ill against the laird. It wouldn't have been fair to tell Douglas, as there was nothing in his power to do about it. He was just as much a servant as I was.

"There now, Iona tells me there's nothing a good bowl of porridge won't cure. Perhaps we might see if there's any cinnamon we can snatch from the laird's personal supply," he said, offering me his arm to use as a balance. I took it gratefully, and together we made our way towards the kitchen door.

This time, the heavenly smell of Iona's cooking did nothing to soothe my feelings, and instead of going directly inside, I stopped the big man in the courtyard. If he thought there was anything unusual about my actions, he never said so, and was patient enough to wait until I was ready to speak.

"Douglas, why are you so kind to me?" I wondered what I'd done to earn his kindness, when everyone else in my experience had treated me with nothing but disdain.

"Is there a reason I oughtn't be?" Douglas asked with a glint in his eyes.

"Because it's strange. Even when you took me from my home, you must have known I'd be of no use to anyone here. So why would you help me?"

I slumped down against the stone walls, refusing to look him in the eyes while he processed what I'd asked.

"When I looked at you, Camryn, I didn't see a wee lass in need of saving. I saw a bright spark in you, one of wit, and strength and courage. I thought to myself, if I could have a bairn of my own, I might like her to be just like you." I couldn't help but smile at his assessment of me, and flushed with shame at my behavior. Somehow, the big man always knew the right thing to say, and for a moment I wondered what it would be like if he really were my father.

The thought of food suddenly became more appealing, and following Douglas into the kitchen, I helped myself to so much that my stomach grew full to bursting.

I sat in front of the warm hearth for a few more moments before a great gust of wind blew down the chimney, causing the fire to crackle in protest. Iona quickly took a straw broom in hand, and after dunking it in a bucket of water, swept the sparks back where they belonged.

"A storm's brewing. Douglas, make sure the washing's in from the line. And Camryn, best go check on the horses and bring them in from the pasture," she said.

"Aye, wife," Douglas answered, and with an exaggerated groan he got to his feet and went back to work.

"That boy better be getting back before the rain starts. I wish he'd abandon his fool's errand and leave those deer alone. There's nothing but trouble in the moors today," she muttered, taking our dishes off of the table.

"And you keep out of the rain as best you can, you hear? I don't want you to be getting ill when you've only just arrived," she said. Not keen on getting soaked through to the bone, I rushed as fast as my foot would carry me towards the stables. The rain had just begun to fall, more a mist yet, than a true rain, The clouds that usually surrounded the mountain tops grew lower and lower until it looked as if the moors were covered in a thick, blanket of fog.

Ushering the remaining horses back inside their pens, I closed each gate thoroughly. I couldn't help but notice that Alasdair and his company had not yet returned from their hunt, but I prepared their stalls for their horses anyway. After making sure the horses had plenty of food to last them the day, I made my way back towards the kitchens, when something strange caught my eyes in front of the rose maze. At first, I thought that perhaps the fog was playing tricks on me, and turned away. Yet, something compelled me to turn back towards the gardens.

While the rest of the world around me was covered in the grey mist of the fog, standing starkly in contrast were two red deer. I gasped in shock, amazed that I was the one to have found them after Alasdair and his party had spent ages searching.

The first was a hind, and she moved about so gracefully it was almost like she were dancing. I didn't think she'd noticed me yet, and I crouched down very slowly so as not to alarm her. Beside her was a young fawn, barely old enough to stand on its own, and she watched over it protectively. I watched them for several moments, until the rain was no longer just a mist, but was pouring on me quite heavily. The deer were not bothered by the weather, but I watched as the doe's ears began to twitch with the sound of hoof beats and the barking of hounds in the distance. My heart dropped at the knowledge at what Alasdair was after, and all I could think about was helping the poor creatures.

I stood up, making gentle clicking noises. I worried that if I were too loud, I would alert the laird and his companions, and I didn't want that. Instead, I waved my arms, hoping that the motions would frighten them away.

"Off you go then," I whispered, gesturing wildly for the animals to flee.

"Go on! You don't want to be dinner, I'm sure!" But instead of running away like I'd hoped, the mother just looked at me straight in the eyes, her long lashes covered in rain drops that she blinked away.

"Please go!" I urged, but she still would not budge. The hoof beats were nearly upon us now, and perhaps their proximity caused her to finally flee into the rose maze. Only, she didn't realize that once inside, there was no escape.

The fog was so thick I barely had any warning before Alasdair and his friends appeared in front of me.

"There were two deer, did you see them?" he demanded of me.

"No, my lord," I answered falsely, hoping in vain that he would abandon his search and leave the deer alone. It seemed that my wish was not to be, however, when one of his dogs picked up the scent of the deer and began heading into the maze.

"They wouldn't have gone in there, would they?" Rhys wondered.

"Well if they were fool enough to get trapped in the maze, then they deserve to be our dinner," Alasdair answered.

"Let's just finish this so I can get in out of this blasted rain," the lady complained, and after dismounting from their horses and collecting their bows, the three began to make their way into the maze.

"Wait!" I shouted out. "There's a fawn; please don't hurt the mother!"

If they heard me, they certainly didn't care, and so I followed after them into the maze. It was a bad idea. I had never been inside the maze before, and had no idea where the creatures might be. I hoped the same would be true for the hunters, as well. I took one path, only to end up nowhere, forced to turn around and try another route. Worried that I wouldn't make it to the deer quickly enough to save them, I ran faster and faster until my twisted foot began to buckle under the stress I was putting on it.

Thankfully, I hadn't heard any cries of victory, and I hoped the rose maze had thrown the laird's hounds off the scent, as well. Continuing my search, I wasn't sure what was motivating me to save the animals. Iona's tales of fairy vengeance certainly helped to spur me on, but the sight of the deer, such pure animals, made me want to save them from such a cruel fate. But it was only a matter of time before my foot gave out from under me again, and I wasn't sure what to do. Even finding my way back out now would have been a struggle. I cried out in frustration, wiping away the rain drops that dripped down from my hair and into my eyes before slumping down on the ground. I felt useless, unable to save even a small deer.

It was only when I stopped moving that I heard a faint sound, almost muffled by the howling wind. At first, I was sure it was nothing more than the sound of the wind through the hedges, but "this way," it called, again and again. I'd no idea which way was 'this way.' All I could do was frantically search for the source of the voice.

"Come this way, child," it whispered, almost as if it were behind me this time, and as I spun around, I could swear I saw the faintest of lights guiding my path forward. I'd always had a vivid imagination, but I'd never before seen visions of any kind, so I could only assume I was seeing the lights because I was meant to follow them. Getting to my feet again, I did just that. And strangely, I could no longer feel the cold wind and the rain. Time had stopped around me, and the only thing that existed were those lights and my compulsion to go wherever they were leading me.

"Follow me, my child. This way to your destiny," the voice said gently.

It was only when I found Alasdair and his party that the world around me seemed right again. The rain was, once again, cold on my body, and the wind seemed to burn through my limbs. There the three of them stood, the men with bows at the ready and aimed at the red hind. Alasdair's hounds had backed the creatures into a dead end of the maze. The tiny fawn shivered with the cold while it hid behind its mother, who stood proudly facing those there to kill her.

"Oh just be done with it already," Deirdre moaned. "It's miserable out here. I need a warm bath and dry clothes."

"Hush, Deirdre," Rhys argued. "Now come on, Alasdair. You deserve the honor of the first kill. Then we'll let the fawn go until it grows into a bigger prize."

For a moment, it looked as though Alasdair would put down his bow. That maybe seeing the creatures he'd been hunting would be as profound for him as it had been for me. But any hesitation on his face quickly disappeared as he let loose his arrow, straight into the deer's heart. She cried out, letting loose a final bellow, before sinking to the ground as delicately as a falling rose petal.

"No!" I cried out at the same time, but I knew I was too late. The crimson roses, that had only just begun to bloom, matched the color of the hind's blood as it stained the grass beneath her.

I looked at Alasdair's face as he stared at the creature, and I was almost certain I saw regret before a look of utter shock replaced it. For there before us, rising from the body of the slain hind, was the most beautiful woman I had ever laid eyes on. Her hair was even more golden than the sun, and shone with its own otherworldly light. Her eyes were piercingly blue, and her lips were redder than the currents of summer. She wore a dress that looked as if it were made of butterflies wings and the petals of flowers. The storm, regardless of how it howled and spat, had no power over her. It was almost as if the wind and rain were afraid to mar her delicate perfection. I knew, almost instinctively, that it was her voice I had heard—her light that I had followed here. But there was nothing gentle about her now, as she turned her ethereal gaze to the laird of Castle Droigheann.

"You have broken your covenant with me, Laird of the Seat of Thorns," she said sharply, and as if her words had force, Alasdair and his companions were pushed to the ground, subservient.

"I know of no Covenant with you, Lady," he answered, his voice quavering with fear and cold.

"You did, indeed, know of it boy, but you chose not to believe in it. That does not excuse you from the butchering of an innocent creature. You, who have also lost your mother, should understand this child's pain well," she said, stroking the fawn's brow with delicate fingers.

"It is clear to me that you are not fit to rule upon the throne I have graciously allowed your family to sit upon."

"You have allowed us? Castle Droigheann has been my family's seat for centuries!" Alasdair was brave enough to argue.

The lady only laughed at his attempt at defiance, the sound like a thousand bells being chimed all at once.

"I am the Queen of Elphame! Everything you see around you belongs to me. Each drop of dew on every blade of grass is mine. This land has been your family's seat for centuries only because I have allowed it. The men of the Lyall line have been honorable and compassionate, but I see none of them in you. You are a spoiled, self-indulgent child, unfit to remain my laird. I am inclined to take your life for the life of my hind," she said, waving her hand dismissively.

"I will be, My Lady, I swear it. Give me the chance to atone for my mistake," Alasdair begged. In that moment, I saw him not as a laird, but as a boy, not much older than I, begging for his life.

All of the stories I'd ever heard of the fairy queen spoke of how she was without mercy. To cross her meant nothing but doom and disaster. Alasdair might have disregarded tales of fairies as nothing but fancy, but I had learned and listened to the superstitious villagers. I knew that there was one thing a fairy could not resist. So, despite the fact that I did not like my new laird, I found myself speaking in his defense.

"What if he offers you a deal?" I asked in a voice that sounded much braver than I felt. The Queen of Elphame turned her sharp eyes on me and smiled.

"What kind of bargain would you have me make, child?" she asked, her tone much softer with me than it had been with Alasdair.

"It seems to me that taking a boy's life for the life of a deer would get you nothing. You'd have no suitable laird to rule, and no guarantee that whoever decides to take over would be any better than he is. Instead, why don't you offer him the chance to repent and become the sort of leader you'd want him to be? If he doesn't, then you haven't really lost anything. You'd be right back where you started."

Alasdair turned around, throwing me an incredulous look, but I ignored him. If he didn't intend on fighting for his life, I'd have to at least try for his sake.

The Queen laughed again, clasping her hands together in delight.

"What a clever child. I admit, I like the sound of your deal, with a few, minor amendments. Do not think I have not seen your effort to save my deer. In doing so, you shall be rewarded in turn," she said, moving towards me so daintily it was as if she were floating. Taking my hands in hers, she led me toward the now motherless fawn.

"You tried to save this creature's life, and so I give him to you. He shall be your lifelong companion, and your legs when your feet can walk no longer," she said. I looked at the small creature, his legs almost as weak as my own now, but someday he'd be surefooted and strong. His big, brown eyes stared up at me, and for a moment I thought he might be crying at the loss of his mother. My heart overwhelmed by compassion for him, I wrapped my arms against his neck.

"I will make amends to you Ruadh, I promise," I whispered, giving the deer a name that meant 'red of hair'. The deer was a strange gift, but I was grateful nonetheless. Still, it seemed as though the Queen of Elphame had finished with me and was ready to deliver Alasdair's punishment.

"As for you, boy, your companions are no longer welcome here. They will forget ever knowing you and will never be inclined to pay Castle Droigheann a visit again. Not a great loss, I'm sure," she said, and with a wave of her hand, the butterfly-like shapes from her dress burst forth in a flurry of light and color. Around and around they flew, until both Lord Rhys and Lady Deirdre were whisked away, never having known what hit them.

"Now hear me, Alasdair Lyall, Laird of Castle Droigheann. Our bargain shall be thus: You enjoy hunting, so I shall make you my hunter. No longer shall you hunt the creatures of the earth, but those who will seek to destroy my lands. Each day and each night you shall perform this task without fail, until I am satisfied that you have learned enough to be a compassionate and gracious leader. If those terms are not fulfilled before thirteen years have passed, then your life is forfeit."

"It seems simple enough, but why thirteen?" Alasdair wondered.

"You've had thirteen summers with your father to guide you, and I shall give you as long as that to learn to live without him in a way that he would be proud of. Isn't that generous of me? Now do we have a bargain or not?" the queen demanded. A knot formed in my stomach. Somehow, her terms seemed too easily achieved, though I couldn't put my finger on what exactly was wrong.

"I don't see myself as having much of a choice. Very well, I accept your terms," he agreed.

"Excellent," the Fairy Queen said, her eyes sparkling with delight. She had won a victory, but over what I was unsure.

"Killing you right away would have been a shame, after all. I will enjoy watching as you wallow in the futility of your task. I have ensured that all your dear companions will remember of their visit to Droigheann will be their encounter with a most terrible creature before I whisked them away. Thanks to your friends, rumors of the beast of Castle Droigheann will spread throughout the land, so I predict that you shall have your hands quite full.

"I don't understand," Alasdair replied, the temporary relief on his face now replaced by fear as the queen laughed once more.

"Oh my dear boy, don't be surprised. You can never truly win in a bargain with a fairy. You will become my hunter, but I never said that you'd be hunting as a man."

A flash of light as bright as the sun overcame the rose maze, and I sheltered my eyes in the crook of Ruadh's neck. The sounds of the wind and rain disappeared, overwhelmed instead by a great, sorrowful howl.


End file.
